


Buttons of the Unexpected

by KatesBrain



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatesBrain/pseuds/KatesBrain
Summary: The Doctor has been pressing buttons, again…- originally posted Feb 2008





	Buttons of the Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Doctor/Severus Snape (Doctor/Master implied)   
> Author's notes: Firstly, thanks to Shocolate for giving this a read through for me and catching my rogue spaces (apparently, I am now engaged ;-)   
> Tenth doctor - Tennant. Post Simm/Master series. HP timeline: after Severus gets bitten by Nagini.
> 
> Written for Abigail89's birthday.  
> As far as the prompts are concerned, I didn't get to use all of them but a few managed to sneak in. There are also a couple of references to the Doctor Who Children in Need Tennant/Davis sketch.

**

 

The problem with the Tardis was that she was so damn big. No matter what décor you put up, what colour scheme you chose, even bringing in the old rocking chair that was laden with dust, it still felt like trying to fill up a blackhole with a few fragments of moonrock.

 

The Doctor didn't stand a chance of filling up the space. It was large and he was tiny. Oh, to think that he had been grateful of losing that long, lanky frame. Although, he supposed that it wouldn't have made much difference.

 

There was also the silence to help depress him.

 

Footfalls echoed when you walked around the console, emphasising the fact that there was only one pair of feet present. He could talk, but somehow it only sounded emptier without someone else there to bite back or cheer him on, or at the very least, to tell him to shut up. Even a nice ringing slap wouldn't go amiss round about now. But, no, he could talk the hind legs off the rocking chair and he would still be very much alone.

 

He needed a project, that's what. Something to do. He started to mumble and prattle to himself as he paced around the chamber. Projects. There always seemed so many whenever there was another body on board.

 

He supposed he could carry on trying to find his beloved sonic screwdriver, but the thought only left him more despondent than before: he knew he had put it somewhere _safe_ and nine hundred odd years wasn't really old enough to be getting forgetful about these things, was it? Alternatively, he could visit a few places and times, but that would undoubtedly involve acquiring a new companion, which would be a bad idea seeing as he was still on the rebound from losing the opportunity to travel with the Master. He fluffed his hair up in agitation as the memories of an awkward, stubborn and wholly frustrating man came back to him.

 

There was only one thing for it. Tinkering. Something to keep him occupied and out of trouble. Now, that sounded more like it.

 

So what needed to be tinkered with? The Doctor ferreted around for a while, pulling out old circuit boards and pointy control sticks from boxes and then he stopped abruptly. Buttons! That's what he could do. There were still those buttons, underneath the console on the right hand side, the ones with the shiny edges and bobbly tops that he'd never got around to playing with. It was time to find out what they did.

 

**

"Not again."

 

The tinny accent rattled around Severus Snape's head, dissipating the fog as it did so and leaving a vibrant aching feeling in its wake. But the voice was not familiar, the words meant nothing to him and the pain from the snake bite still wracked through his body. He tried to open his eyes, to see who this voice belonged to (Voldemort's choice of replacement, perhaps?) but his eyelids resisted. Every muscle in his body resisted for that matter – the venom had seen to that. He couldn't last much longer now.

 

"I've really got to find a way to stop this from happening," the voice continued – and far too cheerily in Severus' opinion. "Although, meeting me with added celery wasn't completely unwelcome… Hmm, pity it was over so quickly, though. No, I've really got to find a way to stop complete strangers from randomly appearing, especially when I'm in the middle of playing – no, _working_ – with buttons."

 

As the prattling continued, sensations from Severus' body began to break through the haze of pain and he could feel something poking him under his jaw. Surprised to find his eyelids were now being cooperative, he opened them cautiously to find he was being peered at by a face that had all the irritating enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy.

 

"Ah, so you are alive then. That's always good. Better than having a random dead body arrive unannounced in the Tardis. Infinitely better." The face pulled back slightly and frowned. "You're not me, are you? A me from the future – _my_ future, I mean."

 

Severus tried to speak, to tell this insufferable idiot to leave him alone, to let him die in peace. Then, to Severus' annoyance, a hand moved upwards to inspect his hair, the outline of a particularly putrid brown pinstriped suit making its way into his field of vision. He tried to move away from this unwelcome intrusion, but it was pointless. Damned snake – although, the pain was certainly less intense than before. Surely he should be dead by now? Surely he should be getting worse, not better?

 

But time to muse over his situation was not to be allowed, it seemed, as his head continued to be pulled about by the irritating little man.

 

"Ugh, that hair. You have problems. Or I do. Or we both do. Or, at least, maybe you're not me after all. Could be mitigating circumstances… You might just be in need of a good shampoo, and a wardrobe that has less of the funeral feel. Although… the whole swishy cloak thing, I must see that in action—"

 

Finally some sort of message made its way through to Severus' mouth, and he was able to speak, albeit in a voice that was slurred and hoarse. "For goodness sake. Will you stop blithering on!"

 

"Okay, so you could be me. Another grumpy version."

 

"Where am I?"

 

"Pleased to meet you, too. I'm the Doctor, by the way," the Doctor replied in an offensively chirpy manner. "Bit of a sore head, Mr Bear?"

 

"No," Severus said curtly, and he tried to glare but had no idea whether the muscles required were cooperating or not.

 

"I'd hate to experience you when you did have one. Are you sure? You do look a bit peaky."

 

"That's because I should be dead." Severus instinctively moved to rub at his own neck. His arm obeyed and he could feel a sticky residue of blood left on his neck thanks to Nagini.

 

"Ooh, that's a bit nasty," the Doctor muttered darkly, and he sucked air in through his teeth in the manner of a Muggle car repairman.

 

"What have you done to me?"

 

"Done? Me? They're nothing to do with me."

 

"Not the snake bite, you imbecile. Why have you brought me here?"

 

"Ah. You see, I was only innocently pressing buttons. That's all I've been doing. Although, I don't think I'll be pressing the dark blue one again."

 

"Will you stop this infernal blathering on!"

 

"Well, really… I don't 'blather' do I?"

 

Severus rolled his eyes at the hangdog expression being thrown in his direction before feeling very sick indeed as a possibility came to him. "Oh no."

 

"What?"

 

"I _am_ dead. This is hell, and you are to be my eternal torment."

 

"Now steady on." The hangdog expression was instantly replaced by an indignant scowl. Standing up, the Doctor began to pace backwards and forwards, waving his arms around as he did so to punctuate what he was saying. "You turn up out of the blue. Just materialise where you've not been invited, and then you imply that I'm some sort of afterlife booby-prize. Of all the…! Random materialisation _and_ insults! Anything else you'd like to share to improve my day even further?"

 

Severus looked on in apathetic disdain as the Doctor continued to rant at him, only when the Doctor paused and ran a finger and thumb over his chin in contemplation was Severus' interest piqued. "There's an air about you of… oh, I don't know…," the Doctor mused, "of… testosterone. Yes, that's what it is. Testosterone. And ego. Reminds me of someone. You're not growing a beard or marrying one by any chance?"

 

"Marrying a beard?"

 

"Never mind."

 

"If I'm not dead, then I'm starting to wish I was."

 

The Doctor ignored the insult this time, instead busying himself with the large piece of equipment that stood in the centre of the room. As Severus watched him pressing levels and twiddling with knobs and dials, a confident – yet slightly irritated – feeling stole over him: this man was obviously a Muggle. Who else would bother with all that Muggle technology, let alone spend the time learning how to use it?

 

In Severus' opinion, to be murdered by Voldemort's snake and then be captured by a Muggle really was too much for one day. It was time to do something.

 

With a lurch, he heaved himself to his feet, his legs shaking disconcertingly beneath him. Gritting his teeth and concentrating on maintaining his balance, Severus stumbled forwards, knocking against the main console and clutching at the Doctor's suit jacket to keep him upright.

 

"Mind the buttons!" the Doctor screeched, steering Severus to an area on the console where there was a Muggle television screen and only one lever.

 

"Send me back."

 

"I'll do what I can. Can't say you've been the most amiable of guests. Where did you come from?"

 

Snape resisted the urge to just Avada Kedavra the idiot. Surely, if you kidnapped someone, you generally remembered where you kidnapped them from.

 

"Hogsmeade."

 

"Righ-eet," the Doctor said, clearly never having heard of the place. "Um, not too sure about that one. Is that a planet?"

 

Severus just glared at him in utter disgust.

 

"Okay, not a planet then. What species are you?"

 

"I'm a giant squid," he said sarcastically, and then he groaned inside when the Doctor appeared to take him seriously. "Human, of course."

 

"Of course," the Doctor repeated with a distinctly patronising overtone, making Severus want to hex him on the spot. "Why does it always come back to earth? Of all the places in the galaxy…."

 

The man was obviously a buffoon, Snape decided. Probably related to Lockhart or had been locked up in Azkaban with the dementors for too many years.

 

"…If I was superstitious," the Doctor continued, blissfully unaware of Severus' increasing frustration, "I'd think there was some overriding plan or destiny, or something. But I'm not, and there's no such thing. So—"

 

Severus had had enough. Fixing the Doctor with a penetrating stare he let the word _Occlumens_ ring through his head. He would soon find out was this Doctor was playing at.

 

Only it didn't work. It was as if the spark of magic was there, but there was nothing for it to ignite. Apparently, wandless magic was not an option. Perhaps he was too weak.

 

"I know you're doing something…" the Doctor announced with a frown. Then he perked up and glanced in the direction of a small metal box in the corner that only blended in with the Tardis so well because it was covered in grime. "…and for some reason, I've suddenly remembered where I left my sonic screwdriver."

 

Not prepared to wait for any further distractions, Severus whipped out his wand, holding it aloft.

 

"As much as I like to waste my time with pointless and inane conversation, this is testing my limited patience. Where am I and why have you brought me here?"

 

The Doctor peered cross-eyed at the wand that was now barely an inch from the tip of his nose.

 

"Is that a stick?"

 

"Oh, of all the insufferable… It's my wand."

 

"Your wand?" The Doctor's tone was not reassuring – in fact, it could only be described as childishly amused.

 

"As puerile as your mind might be. I hope it will understand when I say that I am a wizard, and not a particularly forgiving one. So you might want to consider giving an answer to my—"

 

"So you're going to cast a spell on me?" The Doctor was positively bubbling with glee now.

 

"Enough!" With a shove, he pinned the Doctor against a wall, stared into his dark pupils and whispered, " _Occlumens_ " as menacingly as he could. He began to push his way in to get the information he needed, but instantly came up against some form of advanced mental resistance.

 

The Doctor didn't even blink. He just stared right back and said, "Well, if you insist on inserting yourself somewhere private…"

 

Where Severus had been getting nowhere shoving with all his mental capacity at the door to the Doctor's mind, now it suddenly flung open, propelling him into its depths through sheer inertia. Emotions, events, images, scents and a myriad other experiences that belonged to the Doctor spread out around him as though he were in a gigantic labyrinth of startlingly real memories.

 

The energy of the Doctor's mind flowed past him, round him, immersing him in a pulsating heat. It left him feeling woozy, as if he had consumed several bottles of firewhiskey, and all he wanted was to immerse himself, let his consciousness slip away in this mixture of sensations. There was heavy breathing in his ear, gusting over his skin, words were murmured against his neck, "Remember that I can do something truly disgusting with my tongue."

 

This was not the Doctor's voice, however, and Severus felt a shiver run through the Doctor's mind in response to the memory of them. No, the voice belonged to someone who had many guises it seemed, who appeared again and again in one bodily form or another – only as a child or teenager did the physical form remain the same.

 

Other voices joined that voice, the Master's voice. Occasionally soothing him, luring him deeper, and he no longer knew why he was there, only that he wanted to stay. Stay where imprints of moments from the Doctor's life continued to flash past him, through him, _in_ him… but catching hold any particular one seemed impossible. Instead, he buried himself deep inside, enfolding himself in the layers of the Doctor's mind and letting bliss overtake him.

 

When Severus came to, he was out of breath. His chest was heaving and he could feel the tips of a messy shock of hair brushing against his chin. Standing up against him, still pinned to the wall, was the Doctor who was also out of breath. The Doctor's cheek lay flat against Severus' chest, one hand clasping the front of Severus' robes, the other hanging limply by his side.

 

Aware, all of a sudden, that one of his own hands had become enthusiastically entwined in the Doctor's hair, Severus released his fingers and took a step backwards, breaking the physical contact between them. He winced as he felt a sticky resistance in the front of his underwear. The shock of hair moved and those soulful brown eyes looked up at him, underlined by a wry grin.

 

"Haven't done that in a while." The tone, as usual, was amused, but this time it was also tempered by a touch of nostalgia.

 

With his mind still in somewhat of a fog and unsure of how to act, Severus merely glared back at him. This appeared to leave the Doctor nervous, because he started to waffle needlessly.

 

"I suppose that, technically, it's actually been bloody ages. I'm not usually this promiscuous with complete strangers, you see, but you certainly seemed to know what you were doing, and you, er, felt… familiar, in a way—"

 

"Who is the Master?"

 

Now the Doctor was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "There are codes of conduct," he said, "moral guidelines, as it were, for mentally-penetrative sex, you know. Such as not asking personal questions immediately afterwards." The Doctor paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Hang on. How did you manage to instigate a telepathic union on that level if you're only human?"

 

"As I said before, I'm a wizard."

 

"No, but wizards don't really… I mean, not in the sense that…. Are you telling me that you do magic? Not the stuff that's explainable by sciency-wiency stuff, but _real_ magic? Nah! You're having me on."

 

Severus stooped to pick up his wand which had been dropped during their union. Pointing it at the small metal box that the Doctor had looked at earlier, he said, " _Wingardium_ _leviosa_."

 

"Careful! My sonic screwdriver's in there," the Doctor said as he launched himself across the room to grab at the floating box.

 

The box was duly restrained and opened. Having retrieved his beloved screwdriver, the Doctor returned to where Severus was standing and began waving it in his general direction.

 

"Interesting. It's picking up something unidentifiable in your wand, but there's only residues left in your extremities." The Doctor let his hand drop to his side with a huff. "But, magic doesn't _really_ exist. Only in stories. This doesn't make any sense."

 

"How typical of a Muggle to say something like that."

 

"Muggle? Did you just call me a Muggle? Are you trying to tell me you're a _Harry Potter_ character?"

 

"What has that pathetic and arrogant schoolboy got to do with this?"

 

"What did you say your name was?"

 

"I didn't."

 

The Doctor was not bothered by this non-answer. If anything – and to Severus' dismay – it only encouraged him. He was now positively bouncing around the room with excitement.

 

"So all this time, I'd assumed that J.K. Rowling was some sort of creative genius, when all along, she's just been channelling stories from a parallel universe!" He stopped mid-stride and faced Severus. "Let me guess who you are. Oh yes, of course! You're that greasy teacher… er, Snivellus?"

 

Severus bit out an icy reply. "It's Severus Snape."

 

"Yes, yes. I remember. You die at the end, don't you? Bitten by that… snake. Oh. But you're not dead."

 

"Your powers of observation are truly astounding."

 

"There's no need for sarcasm," the Doctor said as he stepped nearer and waved his sonic screwdriver over Severus' neck, making him flinch at the proximity.

 

"Do you mind?"

 

"No traces of magic there. Hmm. It _was_ a magic snake?

 

"It belonged to one of the greatest wizards I have ever met."

 

"So if it was _magic_ venom, maybe that's why you're not dead. Being in this universe, the magic has, well, disi— no, disaparated!" The Doctor laughed and his mouth curled into a fatuous grin. "Did you get it? Disaparated?"

 

"No."

 

"Oh. Anyway, on to the important stuff. You're from another universe, right? You really shouldn't be here."

 

"Surprisingly enough, I really wish I wasn't."

 

"Could be tricky sending you back. Would have thought it impossible, but you managed to get here in the first place, despite me thinking that the rift between the different universes having been—"

 

"Just stop talking and get on with it."

 

"I can try. But the snake bite? You might die, again."

 

"Given my current circumstances, that's a chance I'm willing to take." Severus watched the Doctor bounded around the room, stopping to pull at levers, studying dials and muttering about ungrateful guests. "Besides, Doctor, if the magic in my neck has managed to dissipate, then it won't suddenly reappear when I return."

 

"Maybe," the Doctor agreed, although he did not look convinced. "That's if I _can_ send you back." He stood back from his levers and cast an eye around the room as if trying to recollect something. "Ah, yes! Buttons!"

 

"Will you get a move on?"

 

The Doctor bobbed below the console, appearing every few seconds to glance at Severus. And then, it happened. Severus felt a wave of electricity tickle through his body and he cried out. Looking over at the Doctor, Severus could see his face fall.

 

"That's not supposed to happen yet," the Doctor said. "There are other buttons to press. And I have a lever, too! Oh dear, you're looking very transparent. And younger…"

 

Severus' perspective on the world was rapidly shrinking, his eyelevel nearly the same as the console where the Doctor was still hunched. He studied a hand – or what was left of it – and started at the appearance of child's fingers where his yellowed and ageing ones once were.

 

His consciousness was fading too, a steady closing down of his senses. The last thing he could recall from the Tardis was the Doctor muttering, "No. That's not possible. It can't be. I really shouldn't have pressed that button…"

 

**

 

In a time, before Gallifrey had been wiped from time, a new generation of children were created from the genetic looms. No one questioned the extra boy who appeared. A quirk in the genetic thread, they said. And he was taken with the others to choose their names.

 

He watched keenly as another small boy fidgeted on the balls of feet while opting for the human construct of Doctor.

 

"I'd like to be called Master," the first boy said with a smirk. He had a funny feeling this lifetime was going to be entertaining…

 

***


End file.
